A falling star, in the fiendish paean of the wind
The Silmaril lit upon her breast, the storm-bruised
Clouds above her gale-tossed hair. Till she did find
The coldness of the seas lapping around her frail body
She sank beyond the fuming tempest, the wailing sky
And the tumult of foam and spray that lashed the face
Of the stone, she fell beneath, wrapped in silence to lie
Crushed upon the sands, bound in quiet that beat on her.
In the watery darkness, the Silmaril blazed with a light
A sudden radiance that lit the depths of the still waters
Drowning, she looked up the sea cliff's stony height
And saw no change in the darkness, but fire was lit here
In the cold deeps of the sea, beyond the knowledge of
Bloodstained hands. And here would the Silmaril blaze
Forever in unsullied brilliance, beyond the lust and love
That it brought to all who saw it, accursed and blinding
To her death she surrendered and sorrow left the heart
Numbed with cold and burned with light till pain could
Not touch the dying heart, and fear was no longer a part
Of her far too young spirit forced to flee to hither shores
Then water stung her cheeks, beat upon her upturned face
Thunder rolling in her ears as her body upwards fled
And her darkling head broke the roiling waters. Grace
Flooded her and she laughed. Her wings beat the air.
Breathing hard, running upon the water, dancing on
Water droplets still flying from her feathers as she
Struggled to soar with the wind's unfettered song
The foaming waters beat upon her slender ankles
The waves clashed around her knees and spread away
As she spread her white wings and was lifted beyond
Shadowed for one moment against the clouds as a ray
Of sunlight broke free and fell upon her upturned face
Soaring into a sky that could never be touched by pain
Wild in freedom, and her wings beat a song of ephermal
Abandon. In the darkness, a white bird flew like a flame
Rising, ascending as her wings beat the air. Freedom at
The last was hers.